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Miss Deborah's 
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Miss Deborah's 
Pocketbook 

A Play in One Act 



BY 



Alice C. Thompson 

Author of "The Good Old Days," "A Suffragette 
Baby," "Molly's Way," etc. 




PHILADELPHIA 

THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 

1914 






£> 






Copyright 1914 by The Penn Publishing Company 



FEB -4 1914 



®C!.D 35906 



Miss Deborah's Pocketbook 



CHARACTERS 

Miss Deborah Hollis, the Elder. 

Mrs. Horner. 

Miss Phcebe Grey. 

Annie. 

Deborah Hollis, the Younger. 

Phcebe Hollis. 

Time. — Thirty minutes. 



STORY OF THE PLAY 

How a dimity gown and destiny decidedly changed the 
views of a wealthy and proud maiden lady, living in a small 
town, is set forth in this simple, but effective, little play. 
Miss Deborah Hollis is visited by two ladies seeking sub- 
scriptions on a day on which she has lost a large sum of 
money, and is also greatly annoyed by the fact that a poor 
family has just moved in next door. She gives generously 
to buy a present for the prominent president of her club, 
but meagerly to the Home Missionary Society. In the 
midst of her denouncement of the poor, a young girl, one 
of the new neighbors, appears with the lost money. She 
proves to be the daughter of Miss Hollis' long-lost brother, 
and Miss Deborah changes her mind about beggars, and 
finds a namesake. 



COSTUMES, ETC. 

Miss Hollis. About fifty-five. A woman of fine fea- 
tures and an aristocratic bearing. She is well, but plainly, 
dressed. 

Mrs. Horner. A prosperous, well dressed matron of 
about fifty. Calling costume. 

Miss Phcebe Grey. A gentle little maiden lady in an 
old-fashioned and rather shabby dress and hat. About 
sixty. 

Annie. A pleasant-faced girl of twenty. She wears a 
neat gingham dress, cap, and white apron. 

Deborah, the Younger. A tall pale girl of about 
eighteen, who would be pretty if she had a chance. She 
wears a faded but clean black and white gingham dress, 
and no hat. She carries a black shopping bag in her hand 
at entrance. 

Phcebe Hollis. A bright, pretty girl of sixteen. She 
wears a faded mauve dimity dress and no hat. Any other 
dress may be worn, by making slight changes in the text, 
where the dress is mentioned. 



PROPERTIES 



Sofa cushions ; a black leather hand-bag containing 
pocketbook with roll of bills ; hand-bag containing small 
note-book and pencil. 



Miss Deborah's Pocketbook 



SCENE. — Parlor in Miss Deborah's house, furnished in 
eo7?iforiable and old-fashioned style. A large sofa, l. c. 
Armchair, R. C. Table and two small chairs, c. En- 
trances C. and down L. and R. Door c. opens into front 
hall. The fro?it door may or may not be shown beyond 
door c. 

{The curtain rises to discover Annie searching the room. 
She turns up the sofa cushions, goes down on her ha?ids 
and knees, looking under sofa and chairs.} 

Annie {speaking off l.). No, ma'am, I can't find it; 
it's not here. I've looked everywhere. {Rises.) Yes'm, 
1 did look all over the grounds, right down to the gate. 

{Bell at c. Annie goes up and admits, c, Miss Phcebe 
Grey.) 

Phcebe G. Good-afternoon, Annie. Is Miss Hollis at 
home ? 

Annie {hesitating). Yes, Miss Grey, she is, but — I don't 
know if she'd see visitors jest now. 

Phcebe G. {smiling). Oh, but I'm not a visitor. And 
I'll stay only a minute. {Comes down c.) Is she so busy ?■ 

Annie. No'm, but she's lost her hand-bag with a lot of 
money in it. 

Phcebe G. Now, that is unfortunate. 

Annie. Miss Hollis went to town this morning and 
called at the bank, and she says she remembers she had it 
in her hand as far as the front door. But we've looked 
everywhere. 

Phcebe G. Perhaps I'd better be going 

{A ring c.) 

Annie. Oh, I hope they've found it. {Opens door.) 

{Enter Mrs. Horner, c.) 

5 



6 MISS DEBORAH S POCKETBOOK 

Mrs. H. Is Miss Hollis at home, Annie ? 

Annie. Yes, Mrs. Horner, but 

Mrs. H. Tell her I am here. {Comes down c.) How 
do you do, Phoebe ? 

Phcebe G. How are you, Blanche ? 

Miss Deborah Hollis {off l.). Annie, Annie I 

Annie. Yes' in, I'm coming. 

{Exit, l.) 

Mrs. H. I didn't know you were coming over this after- 
noon, Phoebe. 

{They sit r. c.) 

Phcebe G. I'm — I'm collecting, you know. For the 
Home Missionary Band. 

Mrs. H. Oh, that's the society you gave that pretty new 
dimity dress to last summer. 

Phcebe G. Yes, it's a year ago. 

Mrs. H. You might better have kept it. It was a foolish 
sacrifice on your part. 

Phcebe G. I never regretted it, and I hope it gave pleas- 
ure to some one. But I'm afraid I was a little egotistical. 
I wrote on a piece of paper, " From a lady in Greenbridge," 
and slipped it into the dress. 

Mrs. H. Much they care who the things come from — 
those people ! Well, I've come to see Deborah on important 
business. 

Phcebe G. I expect it'll have to wait. Annie says Deb- 
orah has lost her hand-bag with her pocketbook in it. 

Mrs. H. Lost her hand-bag ! Well, how unlucky for 
me. The idea of its happening to-day, of all days ! Still, 
she could give me a check. Where did she lose it? 

Phcebe G. Somewhere in or near the house, she thinks. 

Mrs. H. H'm — do they leave the front door open? 

Phcebe G. I don't know. Why ? 

Mrs. H. Those shabby- looking people who have just 
moved into the Green cottage — they're so poor and down at 
heels. Strangers, too. And right at Deborah's front gate. 
It would be very easy for one of them to slip in. 

Phcebe G. But just because people are poor we should 
not conclude that they are dishonest, should we ? 

Mrs. H. Well, they look it. 



MISS DEBORAHS POCKETBOOK 7 

Phcebe G. I passed the eldest girl this morning. Some- 
how she made me think of Dick Hollis. Or perhaps I was 
thinking of him, anyway. 

Mrs. H. Deborah's brother? 

Phcebe G. Yes, the one who left home twenty years 
ago. He has never been back, and they have never heard 
from him since. Mr. Hollis was hard on him. 

Mrs. H. Deborah always takes her father's part, and 
the boy drank. 

Phcebe G. Yes, poor Dick. He was too popular for his 
own good, and had too much spending money. And then 
they cast him off without a penny. 

Mrs. H. Here's Deborah. 

(Enter Deborah Hollis, the elder y l.) 

Deborah. Good-afternoon, Blanche and Phcebe. How 
are you ? 

Phcebe G. I hope you are well, Deborah. 

Deborah. I'm well, thanks. But I'm considerably up- 
set in my mind. I've lost my hand-bag with a hundred 
dollars in it. 

Phcebe G. A hundred dollars ! 

Deborah. Yes ; I drew it out of the bank this morning, 
thinking to go to the city to-morrow and do some shopping. 
We've searched the house all over and can't find it. There's 
no one here but myself and Annie, and she's— well, as honest 
as I am. (Sits.) 

Mrs. H. Did any one get into the house ? 

Deborah. I don't think so. There have been no stran- 
gers around, except those people in the old Green cottage. 
The idea of any one letting an old tumble-down place like 
that ! And to a shiftless, poverty-stricken family ! Why, 
to see their washing hanging out it's just 

Phcebe G. Yes, it's just pitiful. 

Deborah. And they have a horrid, vicious dog, too. 
He followed Annie into our yard yesterday and almost 
attacked her. 

Mrs. H. Yes, I noticed it as I came past. They'll bear 
watching, I guess. How many are there in the family? 

Phcebe G. Only three, I think ; a mother and two 
daughters. We shouldn't judge everybody by the size of 
his pocketbook. You know folks do come down in the 



8 miss Deborah's pocketbook 

world. Sickness and poverty could bring them to just such 
a pass. 

Deborah. Nonsense, Phcebe. Blood will tell. Decent 
folk couldn't live like that. They're just driftwood, that's 
all; just human driftwood. 

Phcebe G. Suppose they are ? Then we've got to do 
something for them. Every one can't be prosperous and 
successful. Hardly one of us but has had some close and 
dear relative who's made a failure of his life. 

Deborah. I know you mean Dick. But I washed my 
hands of him twenty years ago, when he went away defying 
my father. But you always took his part, Phcebe. 

Phcebe G. We — we were always good friends. 

Deborah. Don't mention his name to me any more. 
He's — he's nothing to me now. He may be dead, for all I 
know — or care. 

Phcebe G. Oh, Deborah ! 

Deborah. As for those people in the Green house, they 
can't stay on there, in that tumble -down place. It's an eye- 
sore. 

Mrs. H. Deborah's right. We ought to send them back 
where they belong. There ought to be some law to stop 
poor, shiftless folk coming from one state to another and 
being a burden on the community. 

Phcebe G. But have they asked any one for anything? 

Mrs. H. Not yet, but the town will be supporting them 
before long, you'll see. 

(A noise and loud voices off L.) 

Deborah {rising). What's that? 

{Enter Annie, l.) 

Annie. Oh, Miss Hollis, that horrid black dog is in the 
yard again. I'm scared to go out. And he's ram- 
pagin* all over the flower beds. 

Deborah. I'll settle him. 

(Exeunt Annie and Deborah, c. Mrs. H. goes up a) 
Mrs. H. There he is ! I wouldn't dare go gut, 

(Phcebe G. goes up c.) 
Phcebe G. Here's Deborah with a broom, 



MISS DEBORAH S POCKETBOOK. 9 

Mrs. H. And Annie with a rake. I should think they'd 
want to shoot him. Look at the sweet peas ! 

Phcebe G. And the geraniums. It is a shame ! 

Mrs. H. My word ! Deborah came down hard on his 
back. Just hear him ! He's gone out, across to his own 
dirty yard. 

{They come down c.) 

Phcebe G. Poor Deborah is having her troubles. 

Mrs. H. Yes, we've happened in on a bad day. And 
whatever made you go and talk about Dick Hollis? 

Phcebe G. I didn't mention him first. But I'm not 
afraid to say what I think, Blanche. 

Mrs. H. We'll have to smooth her down now. 

{Reenter Deborah and Annie, c. Exit Annie, l.) 

Deborah (in a temper). This is the last straw. I'll 
have them arrested. All my geraniums and sweet peas 
broken down by that dog. I'll certainly get the police after 
them. 

Mrs. H. It's a perfect shame. Don't be imposed upon, 
Deborah. You are too good-natured. I wish I could help 
you. But I really must be going. I called to see you about 
the Saturday Reading Club. We are going to present our 
retiring president, Mrs. Hawtrey, with a silver-mounted 
traveling bag. And I knew you'd want to give something. 
She thinks so much of you. 

Deborah. Of course I will. But isn't that rather an ex- 
pensive gift ? 

Mrs. H. Oh, we couldn't give less. She's going to 
Europe, you know. 

Deborah. You can put me down for five dollars. 

Mrs. H. Oh, thanks. By check? 

Deborah. No, you'll have to wait until I find my 
money, Blanche. 

(Mrs. H. takes a small ?iote-book and pencil from her hand- 
bag.') 

Mrs. H. Mrs. Simpson gave eight dollars. 

Deborah. She did, eh ? Mrs. Simpson Humph, 

I guess that'll run her close with the housekeeping for a week 
or so. You can make my subscription eight, too. 



10 MISS DEBORAH S POCKETBOOK. 

Mrs. H. Oh, thank you, dear. (Writes in book.') 
We'll be able to get a lovely bag. 

Phcebe G. I was going to ask you for a small sum for 
the Home Missionary Society, Deborah. 

Mrs. H. Did you know that Mrs. Hawtrey is a cousin 
to the governor? 

Deborah. Is that so? I didn't know it. 

Phcebe G. (meekly). She's just a third cousin. 

Mrs. H. (going up c. ). Good-bye, Deborah. I'll come 
back for the money. I hope you find it soon. Just keep 
your eye on those people across the way. 

Deborah. Oh, Blanche (Mrs. H. turns), perhaps you 
had better put down ten dollars to my name. 

Mrs. H. Deborah, you are the most generous woman in 
Green bridge. I'll put it down before I forget it. (Takes 
book out of bag and writes in it.) Ah, what a lot of good 
you do, Deborah ! Good-bye. 

Deborah. Good-bye, Blanche. 

(Exit Mrs. H., c.) 

Phcebe G. Our little Home Missionary Society, you 
know, Deborah, looks after Indians and poor white settlers 
in the west. 

Deborah [impatiently). Oh, more driftwood. 

Phcebe G. Call them driftwood if you like. Even drift- 
wood has its uses, and for all we know the destiny of these 
poor people may be as important as yours and mine. 

Deborah. Destiny is a big word to apply to them. 

Phcebe G. Last year we sent out sixteen barrels of 
clothing. And one hundred dollars besides. 

Deborah. Yes, I know. You gave them a good dimity 
dress that you'd worn only twice. You might better have 
kept it for this summer. 

Phcebe G. I felt I must do something — I have so little 
money. And I'm glad I sent the dress, if it has given any 
one a little happiness. 

Deborah. I can't pretend to have much sympathy with 
poor shiftless folk. I'll give you a dollar, though. 

Phcebe G. (disappointed). Thank you, Deborah. (Rises.) 
I do hope you'll find your hand-bag and your pocketbook. 

(Enter Annie, l.) 



MISS DEBORAHS POCKETBOOK II 

Annie. Miss Hollis, there's a young girl would like to 
speak to you. 

Deborah. Who is it? I'm not in the humor to see any 
one. What's her name? 

Annie. She didn't give her name, but I think she be- 
longs to that family over the way. 

Deborah. Humph — probably begging. Well, show her 
in. Don't go, Phoebe, for a minute. {Exit Annie, l.) 
I'll tell her if they don't get their front yard cleaned, and 
chain up that dog I'll 

Phcebe G. You won't be too hard on her, Deborah. 
It's not her fault. 

Deborah. Hush, here she is. 

(Phoebe G. sits on sofa. Enter c, Deborah Hollis, the 
younger. In her hand she carries a black hand-bag. She 
comes down c.) 

Deborah H. I found this bag just beside your gate. 
Does it belong to you ? 

Deborah {with a little cry). Oh, my bag ! Yes, yes, 
it is mine. 1 have been looking all over for it. (Takes it.) 
Oh, I'm so glad it's found. 

Phcebe G. Oh, Deborah, what good fortune ! 

Deborah. You live across the road in the cottage, don't 
you ? When did you find my bag? 

Deborah H. This morning. 

Deborah. This morning? It is four o'clock now. 
And I have been worried nearly to death. There is a hun- 
dred dollars in it. 

Deborah H. {gravely). Is there? That's a great deal 
of money ; more than I've ever seen in my life. 

Deborah. Why didn't you bring it back before? 

Deborah H. 1 couldn't come before. 

Deborah. Couldn't come? And you live only a step 
away ! 

Deborah H. But I really couldn't come. I — I 

(Deborah looks at Phcebe G. and nods her head meaningly.') 

Phcebe G. Probably there was a very good reason. 
Deborah {giving bag to Phcebe G.). Take out what I 
promised you, Phoebe, and please count the money. 

Deborah H. I will tell you why I couldn't come. My 



12 MISS DEBORAHS POCKETBOOK 

only good dress was soiled. I had to wash and iron it, for 
mother said I must look neat to come over here. 

(Phcebe G. opens bag and looks over the roll of bills inside 
as inconspicuously as possible?) 

Deborah. Is that your best dress ? 

Deborah H. {looking down). The best — I have. 

Phcebe G. There's a hundred dollars here, Deborah. 
You didn't drop one out. 

Deborah. I'll give you a reward, of course. 

Deborah H. Oh, no — no; I won't take anything. 

Deborah. But it was very honest of you to bring the 
bag back as you found it. 

Deborah H. Honest ? What else could I do ? I be- 
long to honest people. 

Deborah. What is your name? 

Deborah H. Deborah Hollis. 

Deborah (rising). What do you mean? Who are you? 
Where do you come from ? Tell me your name again. 

Deborah H. (puzzled). Deborah Hollis is my name. 

Phcebe G. Is it possible 

Deborah. Your father's name — tell me, what is it? 

Deborah H. My father's name was Richard Annersley 
Hollis. 

Phcebe G. (rising). Dick's daughter. 

Deborah. Where is he? 

Deborah H. He is dead. (She looks puzzled .) 

Deborah. Dead ! Dick dead ! (Sits.) 

Phcebe G. (sitting suddenly). Dead ! 

Deborah H. (going to her). You knew my father- ? 

Deborah. Don't you know who 1 am? 

Deborah H. No. 

Deborah. My name is Deborah Hollis. 

Deborah H. Why, why — then you're 

Deborah. Your father's sister. You must have known 
his home was in Green bridge. 

Deborah H. Oh, no, we did not. My father never 
mentioned his home. We only knew he came from this 
state. 

Deborah. Then why did you come to Greenbridge? 

Deborah H. It is rather a strange story. I will tell 
you. 



MISS DEBORAHS POCKETBOOKL 1 3 

(E?iter Mrs. H., c.) 

Mrs. H. Phoebe — Phoebe — Deborah, what do you think ? 

Deborah. Yes, we know, Blanche. 

Mrs. H. But where did she get it ? 

Deborah. She found it at the gate. 

Mrs. H. Oh, nonsense. Why, you sent it out west a 
year ago, Phoebe. 

Phgebe G. What do you mean ? 

Mrs. H. Your mauve dimity dress, of course. I'd known 
it anywhere. 

Phoebe G. My mauve dimity dress ! What ever is the 
matter, Blanche ? You know I sent it out west a year ago. 

Mrs. H. (triumphantly). Then why is it on a young 
girl just outside? Tell me that. 

Phcebe G. On a young girl 

Deborah H. That's my sister. Her name is Phoebe. 

Deborah. Well, this is extraordinary. Tell her to 
come in, Deborah. Blanche, this is my niece, Deborah 
Hollis. 

Phcebe G. Dick's daughter. 

Mrs. H. What— no ! 

(Deborah H. goes up c.) 

Deborah H. (softly). Phoebe, come in. 

Deborah. She is like Dick ; it's marvelous. 

Phcebe G. His eyes, his very walk. 

Deborah. What did I say to you ? Blood will tell. 

Deborah H. (coming down a). A year ago when we 
were out west — it was shortly after my father died — we were 
very poor; all our money had gone to pay doctors' bills. 
We were obliged to accept help ; among other things some 
clothing. It was marked, " From a lady in Greenbridge." 

Phcebe G. What do you mean ? 

Deborah. Go on. 

Deborah H. Mother said, "There must be some kind- 
hearted people in Greenbridge to send such a lovely dress. 
When we go east we shall live there." That's all. Phoebe 
wears the dress yet. Mother made it over for her. 

Phcebe G. And am I really going to see it again? 

Deborah. Phoebe, my dear, please take fifty dollars for 
your Home Missionary Society. If any one deserves it, 
they do. 



14 MISS DEBORAHS POCKETBOOK 

Deborah H. Here is my sister. 

{Ejiter Phcebe Hollis, c.) 

Phcebe G. {excitedly). There it is ! There it is ! If 
any one had told me it would come back to Greenbridge ! 
Deborah. My other niece, Blanche. 

(Phcebe G. runs and clasps young Phcebe H. in her arms.) 

Phcebe G. Welcome home again ! How well you've 
worn ! Oh, my dear, I'm glad it has been of use to you — 
the dress, I mean. 

Deborah H. Phcebe, this is Aunt Deborah. 

Phcebe H. My aunt? A real aunt? Do you mean it? 

(Deborah kisses her.) 

Phcebe G. Oh, call me aunt, too. 

Phcebe H. And we thought we were perfect strangers in 
Greenbridge. How lucky we are! And to think we just 
drifted here by chance. 

Deborah. No, not chance, dear. Your Aunt Phcebe 
was right — it was destiny. 

Phcebe G. Destiny and the dimity gown, and the 
pocketbook. 

Deborah. Yes. (To Phcebe G.) I'm going to feel 
differently in the future, Phcebe, about pocketbooks. 



Successful Plays for All Girls 

In Selecting Your Next Play Do Not Overlook This List 

YOUNG DOCTOR DEVINE. A Farce in Two Acts, 
by Mrs. E. J. H. Goodfellow. One of the most popular 
plays for girls. For nine female characters. Time in 
playing, - thirty minutes. Scenery, ordinary interior. Mod- 
ern costumes. Girls in a boarding-school, learning that a 
young doctor is coming to vaccinate all the pupils, eagerly con- 
sult each other as to the manner of fascinating the physician. 
When the doctor appears upon the scene the pupils discover that 
the physician is a female practitioner. Price, 15 cents. 

SISTER MASONS. A Burlesque in One Act, by Frank 
Dumont. For eleven females. Time, thirty minutes. Costumes, 
fantastic gowns, or dominoes. Scene, interior. A grand expose 
of Masonry. Some women profess to learn the secrets of a 
Masonic lodge by hearing their husbands talk in their sleep, 
and they institute a similar organization. Price, 15 cents. 

A COMMANDING POSITION. A Farcical Enter- 
tainment, by Amelia Sanford. For seven female char- 
acters and ten or more other ladies and children. Time, one 
hour. Costumes, modern. Scenes, easy interiors and one street 
scene. Marian Young gets tired living with her aunt, Miss 
Skinflint. She decides to "attain a commanding position." 
Marian tries hospital nursing, college settlement work and 
school teaching, but decides to go back to housework. Price, 15 
cents. 

HOW A WOMAN KEEPS A SECRET. A Comedy 
in One Act, by Frank Dumont. For ten female characters. 
Time, half an hour. Scene, an easy interior. Costumes, modern. 
Mabel Sweetly has just become engaged to Harold, but it's "the 
deepest kind of a secret." Before announcing it they must win 
the approval of Harold's uncle, now in Europe, or lose a possible 
ten thousand a year. At a tea Mabel meets her dearest friend. 
Maude sees Mabel has a secret, she coaxes and Mabel tells her. 
But Maude lets out the secret in a few minutes to another 
friend and so the secret travels. Price, 15 cents. 

THE OXFORD AFFAIR. A Comedy in Three Acts, 
by Josephine H. Cobb and Jennie E. Paine. For eight female 
characters. Plays one hour and three-quarters. Scenes, inter- 
iors at a seaside hotel. Costumes, modern. The action of the 
play is located at a summer resort. Alice Graham, in order to 
chaperon herself, poses as a widow, and Miss Oxford first claims 
her as a sister-in-law, then denounces her. The onerous duties 
of Miss Oxford, who attempts to serve as chaperon to Miss 
Howe and Miss Ashton in the face of many obstacles, furnish 
an evening of rare enjoyment. Price 15 cents. 



Successful Rural Plays 

A Strong List From Which to Select Your 
Next Play 

FARM FOLKS. A Rural Play in Four Acts, by Arthur 
Lewis Tubbs. For five male and six female characters. Time 
of playing, two hours and a half. One simple exterior, two 
easy interior scenes. Costumes, modern. Flora Goodwin, a 
farmer's daughter, is engaged to Philip Burleigh, a young New 
Yorker. Philip's mother wants him to marry a society woman, 
and by falsehoods makes Flora believe Philip does not love her. 
Dave Weston, who wants Flora himself, helps the deception by 
intercepting a letter from Philip to Flora. She agrees to marry 
Dave, but on the eve of their marriage Dave confesses, Philip 
learns the truth, and he and Flora are reunited. It is a simple 
plot, but full of speeches and situations that sway an audience 
alternately to tears and to laughter. Price, 25 cents. 

HOME TIES. A Rural Play in Four Acts, by Arthur 
Lewis Tubbs. Characters, four male, five female. Plays two 
hours and a half. Scene, a simple interior — same for all four 
acts. Costumes, modern. One of the strongest plays Mr. Tubbs 
has written. Martin Winn's wife left him when his daughter 
Ruth was a baby. Harold Vincent, the nephew and adopted son 
of the man who has wronged Martin, makes love to Ruth Winn. 
She is also loved by Len Everett, a prosperous young farmer. 
When Martin discovers who Harold is, he orders him to leave 
Ruth. Harold, who does not love sincerely, yields. Ruth dis- 
covers she loves Len, but thinks she has lost him also. Then 
he comes back, and Ruth finds her happiness. Price 25 cents. 

THE OLD NEW HAMPSHIRE HOME. A New 

England Drama in Three Acts, by Frank Dumont. For seven 
males and four females. Time, two hours and a half. Costumes, 
modern. A play with a strong heart interest and pathos, yet rich 
in humor. Easy to act and very effective. A rural drama of 
the "Old Homstead" and "Way Down East" type. Two ex- 
terior scenes, one interior, all easy to set. Full of strong sit- 
uations and delightfully humorous passages. The kind of a play 
everybody understands and likes. Price, 25 cents. 

THE OLD DAIRY HOMESTEAD. A Rural Comedy 
in Three Acts, by Frank Dumont. For five males and four 
females. Time, two hours. Rural costumes. Scenes rural ex- 
terior and interior. An adventurer obtains a large sum of money 
from a farm house through the intimidation of the farmer's 
niece, whose husband he claims to be. Her escapes from the 
wiles of the villain and his female accomplice are both starting 
and novel. Price, 15 cents. 

A WHITE MOUNTAIN BOY. A Strong Melodrama in 
Five Acts, by Charles Townsend. For seven males and four 
females, and three supers. Time, two hours and twenty minutes. 
One exterior, three interiors. Costumes easy. The hero, a 
country lad, twice saves the life of a banker's daughter, which 
results in their betrothal. A scoundrelly clerk has the banker 
in his power, but the White Mountain boy finds a way to check- 
mate his schemes, saves the banker, and wins the girl. Price 
15 cents. 



Practical Elocution 




By J. W, Shoemaker, A. J¥k 

$00 pages* 

Ooth, Leather Back. $1.25 

This work is the outgrowth otf 
actual class-room experience, and 
is a practical, common-sense treat 
ment of the whole subject. It is 
clear and concise, yet comprehen 
sive, and is absolutely free from 
the entangling technicalities that are so frequently 
found in books of this class. 

Conversation, which is the basis of all true Elocu 
tion, is regarded as embracing all the germs of 
speech and action. Prominent attention is therefore 
given to the cultivation of this the most common 
form of human expression. 

Genera! principles and practical processes are pre 
sented for the cultivation of strength, purity, and 
flexibility of Voice, for the improvement of distinct 
oess and correctness in Articulation, and for the 
development of Soul power in delivery. 

The work includes a systematic treatment of Ges- 
ture in its several departments of position, faciaii 
expression, and bodily movement, a brief system oi 
Gymnastics bearing upon vocal development and 
grace of movement, and also a chapter on Methods 
of Instruction, for teachers. 

Sold by all booksellers* or sent, prepaid, tqpcm *•* 
(§eipt of price. 

The Penn Publishing Company 

226 S. 11th Street, Philadelphia 



The Power of Expression 

Expression and efficiency go hand in hand. 

The power of clear and forceful expression brings confi- 
dence and poise at all times — in private gatherings, in public 
discussion, in society, in business. 

It is an invaluable asset to any man or woman. It can often 
be turned into money, but it is always a real joy. 

In learning to express thought, we learn to command 
thought itself, and thought is power. You can have this 
power if you will. 

Whoever has the power of clear expression is always sure 
of himself. 

The power of expression leads to: 

The ability to think "on your feet" 

Successful public speaking 

Effective recitals 

The mastery over other minds 

Social prominence 

Business success 

Efficiency in any undertaking 

Are these things worth while? 

They are all successfully taught at The National School of 
Elocution and Oratory, which during many years has de- 
veloped this power in hundreds of men and women. 

A catalogue giving full information as to how any of these 
accomplishments may be attained will be sent free on request. 

THE NATIONAL SCHOOL OF 
ELOCUTION AND ORATORY 

Parkway Building Philadelphia 





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